


Shrove Howitzer

by Rhizaria



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhizaria/pseuds/Rhizaria
Summary: Eugene's eyes went cold and he backed Snafu into the float’s plywood siding. Snafu whimpered ever so slightly and Eugene made sure to dig his fingers into his shoulders just that much more as he leaned in.“Now listen here…” He hissed into Snafu’s ear. “ I know exactly how long ago it was, Shelton, how could I forget the day the man I’d risked my tail for time and time again cut me out of his life without a word. Yeah, you can’t help but remember shit like that, and I would sooner ship myself back to that hellhole than let you forget me, Shelton.”





	Shrove Howitzer

Monday morning came with a soft veil of rain. Sitting on the porch of his family home, Eugene Sledge stared blindly out toward the street as he pumped pipefuls of acrid smoke into the February chill. Yesterday, he’d told his mother he was giving up tobacco for Lent this year, and he remembered how forced her smile looked under the kitchen lights. Eugene wished he could give her what she really wanted. Wish he could snap his fingers and for the next forty days there’d be no more afternoons without talking, the hollowness in his eyes would be gone, or the shakes would just vanish. But most of all he wished he could give up nights like this.

  
He’d been tricked into thinking it’d be a pleasant dream. He was looking out over the Pacific from the Okinawan cliffside. Burgie was sunning himself a little ways off and Snafu was half asleep on his thigh, lazily passing a half smoked cigarette to him. His fingers had barely grazed the filter when the dream snapped to the shore. The war was over. They were going home. A hulking grey cruiser had its ramp extended and every marine in the Pacific theater was marching onboard in single file. He was placed at the very back, and no matter how much he tried to keep in formation his legs would barely move. Ahead of him men disappeared one by one into the warm lights of the ship, but each step Eugene made was swallowed up by the stinking mud. It flowed thickly into his boots, his dungarees, all the while pulling him further and further down. He was up to his chest in rotten earth by the time his platoon had started boarding, and all he could do was try to drag himself forward. His hands scraped for purchase but only found muck and loose teeth. He screamed soundlessly for someone, anyone one to to help him as his arms were encased and the mud started spilling into his mouth. The marine in front of him turned back towards him as he boarded the carrier his unfocused green eyes met Eugene’s. Then Snafu turned away to board a ship home and Eugene drowned in the Okinawan dirt.

  
He’d woken up choking. His hands scrambled at earth that wasn’t there anymore his breathing went ragged and sharp. He managed to tangle himself in the sheets pretty good as he struggled. When Eugene’s mind finally realized the wetness on his back was sweat and not mud the only thing left for him to do was wrap his arms around himself and let the sobs quake through him. It was routine for him by now. That was how he spent the better part of the last hour and he figured he still had at least another good hour or so before the sun rose. Lot of time to think and smoke. Eugene rapped his pipe against the porch railing. It did the trick of ridding the bowl of any spent tobacco but the residue from the dream couldn’t be cleared as easily. It’s been three years. He should know that much by now.

“Eugene?” His father’s voice is just barely loud enough to carry over the creak of him opening the porch screen door.

“Morning Pa, I didn’t wake you did I?” Lord, his voice sounds raw, but Eugene still tried to seem put together when he turned to his father.

“Naw…naw son, not at all. Just had to get some things ready for this afternoon wanted to get an early start is all.” Eugene noticed how his dad started to pull his robe tight around himself, and for a moment he couldn’t piece together why he was shivering. Slowly, Eugene became aware of the fact he’d been on the porch barefoot and boxer clad while the lawn was crusted with frost.

“Mhmmmm…” Eugene mused stuffing his pipe into the breast pocket of his night shirt.

“I made some coffee. Why don’t you come on inside.” His father held the door open for him, and Eugene offered little resistance. The mugs were already set out on the kitchen table with a small pitcher of cream waiting beside the percolator.

“You still lookin’ to come with me to Crestview this afternoon?” His father asked as he started to pour for Eugene.

“Oh, is that thing for the Order of Myths today?” Eugene slumped into the chair. Rubbing at the back of his neck, the memory of getting roped into riding for his dad’s Mardi Gras Krewe crept back in. His mother had hardly waited a minute after Edward announced his plans to move to Jacksonville before pushing the idea of Eugene taking his spot on the Order of Myths. Of course, she played it off as a chance for him to meet some upstanding men in the community, throw beads with all the doctors and lawyers in Mobile, maybe he’d get the chance to share some beers and moon pies with young men his age as well. But Eugene didn’t have to look too hard to see the gears in her head turning, playing out scenarios of Eugene meeting some dewy, blue-eyed belle at the masquerades. He knew that’s all she thought it’d take to fix him back up again.

“You don’t have to be in the krewe if you don’t really want to, Eugene. But why don’t you at least come by the workshop with me, and see the float you’d be riding.” His father shrugged as he spooned sugar into a mug. “From what I hear they could really use your expertise over on it…”  
Eugene sat up a bit straighter at that. His eyes trained on the fluttering, amorphous shape of milk in his coffee as he mentally scrolled through the things he could be considered an expert in. Nothing short of hitting targets and keeping mud out of rice came to mind.

“Eugene,” His father cleared his throat. "I just thought you’d be able to help out the Mobile Audubon society. They’er looking to have a big ol’ Yellowhammer on the their float…the beak just doesn’t look quite look right to me and I thought maybe you could set them straight, is’all.”

“Oh…yeah I think I can do that.” Eugene croaked, finally meeting his father’s eyes.

“Well that’s great I’ll be sure to let Mr. Amberstill know you’ll be coming by the workshop.” He said pushing his chair back from the table.  
“Just be sure you’re free in time for this afternoon…”

As Dr. Sledge slipped into his office, Eugene couldn’t help a strained chuckle. The first obligation he’s had probably since Christmas needed to remind him to free up his schedule…

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

The rest of the morning rolls along in a grey haze divided between the back porch and the living room chaise. Three o’clock rolled around quickly enough though and Eugene shuffled himself into the bench seat of his father’s pickup truck, settling himself in for what would be a rough drive to the Crestview workshop. But to Eugene, at least, there was just something calming about the jerking rhythm. Maybe, it was just familiar. Maybe, the snaking, unpaved road reminded him of the jeep rides on Pavuvu. Regardless, by the time the truck rumbled into the workshop’s gravel lot, Eugene was dozing, lost in half formed visions of leaning against the warmth of a sunbaked shoulder again.

Even bleary eyed, Eugene noticed the smile his father shot him as they got out of the car wasn’t nearly as tight as before. Doing his best to look at ease, Eugene followed him inside the squat, windowless warehouse and was immediately struck by the punchy smell of sawdust and turpentine. The place was stuffed to the ceiling with what looked to be well over two dozen wooden skeletons in the process of becoming floats. A handful of men were still focused on sanding down railings or nailing down the pine ribs of the alligators, but the day’s work largely seemed to be over. Standing a full head above the men around him, an older gentleman roughly handed over a clipboard before striding over to them. As he got closer though it became clear there was something warm about him that shone through the grizzled salt and pepper beard and sparkled behind his deep-set hazel eyes.

“Well hiya doc….” He said slapping a lacquer stained palm into his father’s hand.  
“Good to see you Jeff.” Dr. Sledge grinned as he clapped his other hand over their grip.  
Turning to his son, he said. “Eugene, this is Jeff Amberstill the head of the Order of Myths this year.”  
Eugene extended his own hand with what he hoped wasn’t a too lopsided smile. Mr. Amberstill’s eyebrows shot up with recognition before he promptly gripped his palm a little too eagerly, shook it a little too briskly.

“Pleasure to meet you, son.” He said his brow furrowed despite the grin. “Your father had told me an awful lot about you. Sounds like you really did Mobile proud over there. Thank you for your service.”

“Awww…there’s no need to thank me, sir.” Eugene mumbled. He could feel the wood stain stick against his fingers and Sledge did his best to focus on that fearing what would happen if he looked up and saw gratitude in Amberstill’s eyes. With a terse cough from Dr. Sledge they finally broke their handshake, and Eugene’s mind flitted to what would get him somewhere else.  
“My daddy tells me you could use some help with a Yellowhammer…”

“Oh yep, you’re gonna want to talk to Merl’ about that…” He answered grinding the knuckles of his first two fingers against the wiry hair on his chin.

“Merl’?” The name felt strange, lolled around in his mouth almost drunkenly.

“Yeah, he’s the boy we put in charge of all the wood supports. Let him know what you think that bird should look like and he’ll get it fixed up before the guys in paper mache make a permanent mess of the whole thing.” Amberstill cocked his head as he scanned the scattered faces strewn between the floats. Not seeming to have found who he was looking for he gestured vaguely to a back corner and said.

“Umm he should be working on the emblem float right now…you know the one?” Eugene nodded.

“Alright well, fair warning to ya’ the boy’s more than a bit of an ass so please let me know if he gives you any lip.”

“Well thanks for the head’s up, but don’t worry I’m pretty well versed in dealing with jackasses of that sort.” Eugene chuckled. He gave a small wave to the two of them and tried not to hurry his steps too much away from the older men. All he wanted now was to tell some poor guy how to carve a damn bird then just smoke his pipe till he could go home.

Eugene thanked his stars this float wasn’t hard to find. The whitewashed column of the emblem float was practically a beacon amidst the other half finished piles of balsa on wheels. It was mostly assembled just needed a few coats of paint on some of the paper maché, but there didn’t seem to be anyone working on it. He’d circled the thing almost twice and was debating whether to climb aboard when he nearly tripped over a pair of boots.

“Fuck.” He muttered, just barely stumbling to a halt before crushing some guy’s ankle. The battered pair of leather work boots joined to a pair of willowy denim clad legs that disappeared underneath the frothy white paper edges of the float. Guess he found Merl.

“Umm hello….” He said clearing his throat. No response, just the groan of wood and the sound of metal turning against metal. Eugene shuffled his feet a moment and wondered if it’d be rude to knock.

“One second, boo.” A low muffled voice answered after another beat. There’s the sound of tools clanking against the poured cement floor as the pair of lanky, legs steadily began to roll their way out from underneath the float. Eugene didn’t even have time to find the voice familiar before before a pair of nut brown hands seized the bottom edge of the float and pushed. Suddenly, Sledge found himself staring into the same green eyes he though he left in his dreams.

Eugene’s tongue went dry and a rip of icy current went up his spine. This can’t be happening. He must still be asleep in the truck. There’s no way in hell Snafu’s here. He can’t be. He looks the same as he did the day he left. Loose curls, sharp jaw, haunted eyes, none of it is any different, so this must be a dream.

“Sledgehamma…?” The dream talked back, and started to prop itself on its elbows.

“….Gene?” It tried again. Eugene felt himself gaping as Snafu rose to his feet.

“No…no…you can’t be here.” Eugene finally heard himself say.  
“Well hiya to you too, Gene.” Snafu said brushing his greased palms against his pants seat.  
“Shelton…what are you doing here” He shot back.  
“Earning a living I hope.” The edge of Snafu’s mouth ticks upward into a smirk, and the shock blinding Gene wears away.  
“How long have you been here” He says taking a half step forward.  
“Shift started at nine” Eugene wanted to wring the life out of him. He almost does so. Instead, his hand balled into the flannel on Snafu’s shoulder and pulled him just that little closer. He wouldn’t let him get out of his way out of this. Not again.  
“Shelton, how fucking long have you been in Mobile…” He made him meet his eyes, and the cheeky spark in those too wide eyes finally started to fizzle away.

“Ummm…little over six months.”

“Six months. You’ve been here six months…” Sledge felt an ice cold weight drop into the pit of his stomach. His other fist clenched into the checkered cotton covering his own chest at the thought. Six months? Six months. How many times did he wonder how Shelton was doing during that time? How many times to did he try to find him? How many times had they almost run into each other? How many times did Snafu see him walking around someplace and decided not to say anything. Did he even remember Eugene lived here?

“Well shit sledgehamma, didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”

“Shelton, I wasn’t really given the chance to miss you. Seein’ as you didn’t exactly see me as worth giving a goodbye to.” Snafu flinched at that, and for a moment a bit of satisfaction mixes in with the fury boiling in Eugene’s stomach.

“You just left,” Eugene hissed, shaking Snafu’s shoulder when his eyes tried to focus somewhere else.

“Fuck Sledge, it wasn’t like that.” He said gritting his teeth, but he doesn’t fight Sledge’s grip. “You were asleep is all.”

Eugene let out a scornful laugh.“Oh well now, that just clears it all up now doesn’t it? Sorry Shelton, I don’t fucking think I was asleep for six months! Don’t just chalk what you did up to courtesy, you bastard!”

He waited for an apology, an answer, some inkling of regret. Instead, Snafu just chewed on his lip and shrugged.

“Gene, I’d really ‘preciate it if you could calm the fuck down. There’s no reason gettin’ this pissy about something that happened years ago.” He mumbled, and that was more than Eugene could stand. Some small part of himself flared back to life, a fragment of the person he thought he stomped out and buried in Okinawa years ago. His eyes went cold and he backed Snafu into the float’s plywood siding. Snafu whimpered ever so slightly and Eugene made sure to dig his fingers into his shoulders just that much more as he leaned in.

“Now listen here…” He hissed into Snafu’s ear. “ I know exactly how long ago it was, Shelton, how could I forget the day the man I’d risked my tail for time and time again cut me out of his life without a word. Yeah, you can’t help but remember shit like that, and I would sooner ship myself back to that hellhole than let you forget me, Shelton.”

Sledge didn’t look at him, just stared blankly at the whorls of the chip board, but he felt Snafu's breathing going ragged against his neck. Slowly, Eugene relaxed his grip and backed away. Snafu didn’t try to move away just kept his eyes clenched shut and his mouth pressed tight into a hard grimace. Whatever cocky front Snafu had relied on he’d shredded, and, for a split second, Eugene felt honest to god guilty. Snafu looked almost like he was in pain.

“I’m not letting you worm your way out of things this time. You’re gonna have to give me a proper explanation, alright.” Most of the heat had left his voice, and Snafu finally opened his eyes.  
“And why would I do something like that.” There’s only a tick of cockiness behind his voice now. Before he could answer, Eugene heard footsteps clacking towards them, a single set, and he couldn’t help the smirk.

“Because you’re coming home with me.”He said releasing Snafu’s shoulders just as Dr. Sledge rounded the float.

**Author's Note:**

> woooooaaaaa daddy....I'm gonna apologize right now for the dialogue
> 
> This might be the first time I've ever gotten the chance to write something in my native accent and I might've gone a little overboard
> 
> Hope you folks could enjoy though
> 
> Also I apologize if there's any spelling or grammar errors I will do my best to tidy this up as I go


End file.
